Weather Eye On The Horizon
by FoenFyre
Summary: He also knows, that though he’s lost himself, his heart doesn’t have to be there for him to feel emotions as well. WillElizabeth. PotC3 spoilers.


_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own anything related to PotC, Disney, or anything related to the movies._

_**Spoiler Warning: It has major spoilers for the end of the 3**__**rd**__** movie, so don't keep reading if you haven't seen it!**_

**Summary:** He also knows, that though he's lost himself, his heart doesn't have to be there for him to feel emotions as well.

* * *

"_Keep a weather eye on the horizon.__"_

—Will Turner, Captain of the Flying Dutchman

**Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End**

* * *

**_Rush _**

Their last moments were made of long embraces and quick kisses,

Of hurried declarations of love.

Of desperate stares that drank in every single detail.

A type of map-making of the highest degree,

So they'd never lose their way, away from this memory,

This final moment of just _them._

He just hopes in one small part of his cavernous chest that it won't be their last. He's seen what heart-break can do. The way it transformed something so pure and true into a monstrous link that devoured both lovers. He's not sure where Davy Jones is now, somewhere in the depths of the sea he traversed through for years, but he hopes he's with Calypso.

If that man's story had no happy ending, who was he to think his could end that way? He shakes his head and looks to the woman with the teasing smile, whose heart carries the burdens of both.

He can't help but indulge her.

_

* * *

_

_**Of Styx and Hearts**_

He wonders sometimes, as he sails on the seas ferrying both familiar faces and old, whether what binds him to her is his beating heart, not the love that they shared. She married a man of pirate ancestry, yet who still had a heart within. Does this mean what he feels is an illusion? That what he gave was merely a token of acknowledgement—of what had led them up to that point?

She's pirate queen, full of boisterous energy and stiff resolve. A person who faced death and came back only to watch him fail to do the same. She cannot follow the path he sails. She cannot understand the feeling of emptiness and assurance of mortality that had for so long governed their actions before. He's died and come back he inwardly hopes that she has not done the same. He knows, in his mind for his heart is not there for consultation, that her kind can't be tamed.

What he's sentenced her is a heavier burden than what she's ever bared. Men like Jack Sparrow would better appeal to her tastes, tangible and not above dishonesty to get justice done. He, a man without a heart, can't possibly be the rope that keeps her afloat. He feels, or rather thinks, that giving up his right to be her anchor would be the best course of action. She came from a damsel-in-distress to a heroine who could pick a fight with the best. Lord knows—he's seen it happen as well. What's to stop her from drifting, just as he's doing right then?

A wisp of blond hair passes the corner of his eye, and for the moment he jerks, nearly falling over the railing to see the unrecognizable apparition float on by. He sighs and smiles back at the horizon. He knows he's not lost her yet.

He also knows, that though he's lost himself, his heart doesn't have to be there for him to feel emotions as well.

The worrisome frights have been happening more often now. His father hides a smirk, and steadies him every time.

Certainly, he can't be as lost as he thought.

* * *

**_Return_**

It's been years, ten years, drifting the seas and ferrying souls to a place he's only glimpsed a handful of times. His nerves are on edge when he thinks of what he's returning to. Or, what he hopes he's returning to. He doesn't want to think about the last poor unfortunate soul that met his end at the bottom of the seas he sailed. He can't think of it—what will or will not appear occupies his mind.

To him, it's been a blur of seconds, but what else could ten years to an immortal be? He rids his head of such thoughts and keeps an eye to the horizon, even when the Flying Dutchman spins on its side and is submerged in the seas it sails, only waiting for that tell-tale green flash that in legends appears so much. He's become as much apart of the legends as that light has, for sure.

The Flying Dutchman's on the other side now. The side not flooded with souls going to their end's end, the only company besides his crew in his travels. He remembers children, ten years of age and he can't shake this feeling that something may more may meet him on the other side.

He wouldn't mind if she got lonely, and found another heart to bear. He wouldn't care if it was to get away from his fleeting memory. As long as she's there, with or without that other person his mind constantly creates to stand beside her on that green hill, he doesn't care for anything. As long as she's happy and waiting, he'll take what he can get. He can't think of anything else.

The hill comes closer and with it memories of vibrant life and dashing strokes of courage. A man named Jack Sparrow who defied the world his dying breed lived in—the same man who gave him his chance to live. Before the pirates and dreams of freedom on the seas he'd been a fatherless boy, the craftsman of swords his master got to claim. He'd had no chance to court her then, their ranks and lifestyles differed too much. Had it not been for that moral-less man, he'd still be living that life today.

No father who told him tales of his shenanigans as a pirate on that man's ship. No memories of happiness with the keeper of his heart. No way to find himself in a way that forging swords as a blacksmith would ever give him. No way at all, to live the life he always wanted to live.

Two forms meet his searching gaze, and his empty chest heaves a heavy breath at what might await. He's dreamed of all the scenarios, of all the reasons he doesn't deserve her. He knows all the explanations of why she might just come to keep a promise her proud soul would force her to undertake. He just—wished for something a bit different. Maybe a happy ending was too much to ask for after all.

But, his father comes up and with a free hand shoves him forward while handing him a spyglass. He looks questioningly to him, a man he's now gotten to know so well, and he is met with a knowing stare and encouraging look. He puts it up to his eye; it can't hurt to take a look.

His eyes widen, and breaths shorten as he nearly drops to his knees in relief—in shock. He—he hadn't been forgotten! If—if the figure next to her was her—_their_ son.

His father chuckles, before returning to his duties. His son is the captain now; he can't slack when they've finally come so close to home. His promise to his wife is still fresh in his mind—though he can't help but tease here and there.

The two distant figures come closer and closer, both wave beaming and radiant. He'd left one behind that day ten years ago, and now he's returned to one more. Whatever he's thought before—all his doubts and worries are gone. She's kept his heart and him hers.

If this isn't a happy ending, he doesn't know what is anymore.

* * *

I just saw the movie last night!!! The ending, after the credits, was beautiful, and the main ending wasn't a major turn-off by being unbelievably happy or predictable. It was with this movie that I become a full supporter of Will/Elizabeth because before she never straight out turned Jack down. 

There was also lots of Jack showing just how high he really is...Seriously, a peanut? And just what was that guy in the background doing by edging towards the goat? I really started cracking up then and suddenly thought of a Goat/Jack pairing before I realized where my train of thought was heading to. Bad fangirl!--bad...please tell me I'm not the only one!?


End file.
